


Morning Rolls Around (It's Another Day of Sun)

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Exploration, Gen, Introspection, Post-Blackwing, Pre-Series, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Self-Discovery, Shopping, dirk before he was dirk, dirk likes snazzy suits and doesn't understand how money works, dirk-typical car theft, first day of freedom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: "When he left it was dark out, and he looked up to the sky hoping to see the stars. There weren’t many to be seen through the lights and pollution of the city, but he caught a glimpse of the North Star poking valiantly through. He wondered if he could follow it to where he needed to be.He started to, just in case."Dirk's first day of freedom post-Blackwing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nekosmuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/gifts).



> Yoooooooo guys! 
> 
> So I got super inspired by seeing this post ( http://nekosmuse.tumblr.com/post/159341176078 ) of Sam Barnett in a snazzy suit and also nekosmuse's tags about post-Blackwing Dirk on it, so I wrote a lil something. Basically, think fresh-faced 20 year-old Dirk stumbling across a bit of cash on his first day of freedom and immediately going on kind of an introspective Treat Yo Self day. 
> 
> My knowledge of the Dirk Gently canon basically extends as far as the TV show and a few scraps of book/comic trivia, so I've basically taken some of the things I know- eight years in Blackwing, Romanian and originally named Svlad Cjelli, lived (and studied) in England pre-series- and constructed my own little version of canon(ish) events to play around in for the purposes of this fic. So if you know a lot about the various canons it may not be exactly the Dirk you're expecting, but he's still our little sunshine son at heart ^_^
> 
> Title from 'Another Day of Sun' from La La Land- I've mixed feelings about the film but it's got a good soundtrack and this song in particular is weirdly Dirk-ish.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was so _bright._ Like, preposterously bright. He'd been outside on occasions over the last few years but this was something else entirely. Perhaps they'd just been letting him out into a fake outdoor rec area? Maybe that sun he used to look at was just a big lamp. But where did they store it when they weren't using it? Oh, what did it matter- he was looking at the real sun now and it was so _bright!_ And it was warming his skin and his heart and it was so huge and yellow- what a lovely colour, he should have had more of it in that little concrete broom cupboard, would have cheered the place up wonderfully. It was so beautiful, he just couldn't stop looking! It was so beautiful it hurt his eyes! _Oh,_ no, wait, you weren't supposed to look at the sun. Woops. Averting eyes now. He had a funny green spot in his vision. That probably wasn't good. Oh, it was gone. Well, that was that then! Nothing obstructing his view now. His view of the grey, deserted street where the black van had dropped him. He wondered where he was. He supposed he’d just have to find out.

"Well," he said quietly, with a tentative smile. "Here we go."

He took a deep breath, and then his first step outside of Blackwing.

And a half second later, when a car came hurtling out of nowhere and crashed into an _alarmingly_ nearby concrete wall, he had his first scream outside of Blackwing, too.

Fortunately, most of the blazing rain of terror and debris missed him completely.

Except for one rather large, briefcase-sized chunk that skittered to a halt at his feet, popping open on impact and revealing-

“Ooh, money!” he beamed, bending down and picking up a stack to rifle through it. It seemed the middle of the reams had been filled in with money-sized sheets of blank paper for some reason. Still, the notes on the top and bottom of each stack were real, and they certainly added up.

Maybe the universe was actually going to be on his side for once.

* * *

 

Having money was _fantastic._ And so were taxis. He may never walk again! Honestly, why walk to places when you can _pay_ people to _drive_ you there? Not that he actually knew where he was going at this point, but the taxi driver seemed quite happy to just keep driving as long as he kept getting money.

He supposed he should think about what to do next. _Plan ahead._ Goodness that was going to be a challenge. Usually people just… told him what to do. Not that he wanted to go back to those days, but sudden total independence was going to be quite the adjustment. What did independent people do? He supposed they looked for… houses and things. Or flats. And cars- although he wasn’t sure he’d bother with that one. He could just pay people to drive him around in _their_ cars, after all. So yes, a house or flat would be a good start. Somewhere to sleep, at any rate. And food, food was good. Oh, _God,_ he could eat _good food._ Sweet, sugary things and rich, fatty breakfasts and fruit so fresh it still had cool morning dew on it! His stomach growled impatiently at the very idea. So yes, on the agenda: house, food, and-

He slammed his palms against the car window, eyes widening. “Stop the car!” he exclaimed, opening the door before the driver even had a chance to fully comply. He lunged out into the road, oblivious to the shocked and angry honks of the neighbouring cars, single-minded in his approach to his goal.

He skidded to a stop by the shop window, and gazed up at the mannequin in awe. _And that._

“I,” he breathed, awestruck at the sight of the suit. “Was _born_ to be inside you.”

He grinned, ducked around a nearby pedestrian (who looked vaguely scandalised, for some reason), and went inside.

* * *

 

He perhaps spent a little longer looking at his reflection on his way out than he should have. But he had, after all, not had a chance to choose his own clothes in eight years. So many wasted years of grey, grey, grey. He had a lot of catching up to do, lots of colours to wear. And with this suit, he was four down already! Green, red, blue, splash of purple on the shirt and tie- disappointingly small amount of yellow, but he could always buy _more s_ uits. And more shirts, too! And ties! He could have an entire _room_ full, and who was there to stop him? No one! Maybe he could even wear _two s_ uits at the same time- no, no that wouldn’t work. Unless he paired the top half of one with the bottom half of another. Imagine the infinite possibilities!

He wound up having to give the taxi man more money for keeping him waiting, but he didn’t mind. Honestly, he wasn’t sure _anything_ could put a dent in his good mood today! He had money and a new suit and a new _life,_ what more could he possibly-

_Grrruuhhhrrrrrrrrlll,_ said his stomach, rather pointedly.

Ah, yes. Food. That was the next thing.

* * *

 

The cabbie, unfortunately, was not so much a font of wisdom when it came to good places to eat. But as luck would have it, there was a food festival taking place on the upper west side of town, which satisfied his needs quite nicely- and gave him an excuse to try _everything._

He ate paella and churros and little lumps of cold fish and rice from Japan. He drank every variation of tea under the sun. He ate potatoes in just about every conceivable form they could be chopped, mashed or sliced into- although his favourites were the thick, salty, gravy-slathered chips with the battered cod. From England, apparently. He’d _always_ wanted to go there- he already had the accent and everything! He’d been practicing it for years- he’d always been fascinated by how that British lab assistant talked, when he could hear him through the glass. He’d gotten rather good at imitating it- and some time ago it had ceased to be an imitation. He’d fit right in there. He’d certainly need a more English name, though…

But England could wait until he’d finished his culinary world tour! He hadn’t even _touched_ the Baltics, yet.

* * *

 

After he’d eaten as much as he could conceivably fit in his stomach, he went exploring. Taxis were wonderful, but the drivers didn’t seem to like when you jumped out at every interesting thing.

He went just about everywhere. He went into every shop he saw, and bought things in most of them. He heard a catchy tune in a music shop and left with the band’s entire discography. He bought shirts and ties in every colour of the rainbow, and a few more besides. He bought a nice new pair of shoes to match the suit, and a pretty yellow flower from a nice street seller to decorate his lapel. When he was hungry again he bought more food, this time in the form of sweet and delicious pastries from a bakery that smelled like how a warm hug feels- or at least, how he imagined it did. He went to a cinema and watched the first thing that was showing, which turned out to be some sort of fantasy epic that he lost track of pretty quickly. Although the tiny man at the centre of all the action had the most _amazing_ big blue eyes he’d ever seen. While he was there he ate an unreasonable amount of popcorn (he couldn’t decide on sweet, salted or butter so he had all three, obviously), and when he was done he went to a pub and drank his first ever alcoholic beverage. He took the bartender’s recommendation, which turned out to be some sort of ale with an unpronounceable German name. It was bitter and a little difficult to start with, but he appreciated the way it made his insides all warm and tingly.

When he left it was dark out, and he looked up to the sky hoping to see the stars. There weren’t many to be seen through the lights and pollution of the city, but he caught a glimpse of the North Star poking valiantly through. He wondered if he could follow it to where he needed to be.

He started to, just in case.

Money, it turned out, was awfully easy to spend once you had it. All that remained of this morning’s lucky find now was a few loose notes and coins in his jacket pocket. Not enough to get him to anywhere as far-flung as England, he’d wager, so he’d have to re-think that plan. Or get there some other way. He certainly needed to go _somewhere._ He didn’t fancy sleeping on the streets- it would _ruin_ his nice new suit. Which, ironically, was a large part of why he was homeless and cashless in the first place. Couldn’t bring himself to regret it, though. It was a gift to himself after eight missed birthdays, it _had_ to be a tad extravagant.

But, as expected, he had quite utterly failed to plan ahead. And now here he was, aimless and alone.

He suspected this may be the beginning of a trend.

If there was one thing he’d learned long ago, it was that the universe did _not_ help him. This morning’s good luck was just a fluke- or perhaps he’d only been given the money in the first place because he was predestined to waste it on frivolities. Generally, the strings of fate weren’t predisposed to giving him what he wanted. Or even what he needed, most of the time.

But they always gave him _something._

So maybe that was his next step. Wait for the next something.

And in the meantime… well, he saw no reason not to keep following that star.

He followed it through the darkened streets, swinging his bags of purchases to a jaunty tune of his own imagining. He followed it as the sky went from sumptuous dark blue to the darkest grey-black the clouds and smog would allow. He followed it until his feet began to ache in his fashionable new shoes.

And then he stopped for a moment. Because his feet hurt, and there was a wall at the perfect sitting height. And also because it just felt like the right moment to stop. He hoped that didn’t mean this would be where he spent the night- it was a nice enough wall, but not the most comfortable he’d ever encountered.

“-Babe, please, you _know_ I didn’t mean it like-!”

“ _Save it,_ asshole!”

Dirk frowned, craning his head towards the ruckus. A high window across the road had opened, releasing the angry voices into the night. He must be sat right in front of an apartment block.

“You care about that goddamn car more than me, fucking admit it!”

“I never said-!”

“No! No more excuses! You and your stupid car can go _fuck_ yourselves!”

“ _What the fuck are you-?!”_

The window was closed again, blocking out the voices. But in the split second before that happened, something came flying out of it. It glinted in the street lights, carving a graceful arc through the air like a little shooting star before landing with a small bump and the gentle clink of metal at his feet.

He frowned, leaning down to examine the object. It looked like a key. It had a weird, chunky plastic bit on it. He picked it up for a closer look. The chunky plastic bit had a button. He pressed it.

Five feet away, a car went _bleep bleep_ and _ker-chunk._

It was a pretty nice car, he thought. He didn’t know an awful lot about them. He’d been near them a few times- sometimes he’d been asked to try and press the buttons with his mind or other such telekinetic nonsense that he couldn’t do. But he’d seen them being driven _for_ him by that very money-hungry cabbie, been given very specific instructions for which bits to try affecting in his exercises. He had a passing knowledge of how they worked…

It was yellow, too.

He shrugged, and collected up his stuff.

Looked like he was bothering with a car after all.

**Author's Note:**

> There ya go! Hope you liked it ^_^ Now I gotta stop procrastinating and get to the big bang writing....
> 
> (also about the obvious lil LotR easter egg there, I realised that when Dirk said Blackwing was 16 years ago, from 2017 that would make it about 2001. i.e. the year Fellowship of the Ring came out. With 20 year-old Elijah Wood being all cute and hobbit-y. I couldn't resist, c'mon.)


End file.
